d up at him with a face
that told him more than words could convey. He could not help reading
its eloquent meaning. Her glance penetrated to his heart--her soul
spoke to his. He caught her in his arms, and little Mimi leaned her
head on his breast and wept.

But from this dream of hope and happiness they were destined to have
a sudden and very rude awakening. There was a sound in the shrubbery
behind them, and a voice said, in a low, cautious tone,--

"H-s-s-t!"

At this they both started, and turned. It was the Pere Michel.

Both started as they saw him, partly from surprise, and partly, also,
from the shock which they felt at the expression of his face. He was
pale and agitated, and the calmness and self-control which usually
characterized him had departed.

"My dear friend," said Claude, hurriedly, turning towards him and
seizing his hand, "what is the matter? Are you not well? Has anything
happened? You are agitated. What is the matter?"

"The very worst," said Pere Michel--"M. de Cazeneau!"

"What of him? Why, he is dead!"

"Dead? No; he is alive. Worse--he is here--here--in Louisbourg. I
have just seen him!"

"What!" cried Claude, starting back, "M. de Cazeneau alive, and here
in Louisbourg! How is that possible?"

"I don't know," said the priest. "I only know this, that I have just
seen him!"

"Seen him?"

"Yes."

"Where? You must be mistaken."

"No, no," said the priest, hurriedly. "I know him--only too well. I
saw him at the Ordnance. He has just arrived. He was brought here by
Indians, on a litter. The commandant is even now with him. I saw him
go in. I hurried here, for I knew that you were here, to tell you to
fly. Fly then, at once, and for your life. I can get you away now, if
you fly at once."

"Fly?" repeated Claude, casting a glance at Mimi.

"Yes, fly!" cried the priest, in earnest tones. "Don't think of her,
--or, rather, do you, Mimi, if you value his life, urge him, entreat
him, pray him to fly. He is lost if he stays. One moment more may
destroy him."

Mimi turned as pale as death. Her lips parted. She would have spoken,
but could say nothing.

"Come," cried the priest, "come, hasten, fly! It may be only for a
few weeks--a few weeks only--think of that. There is more at stake
than you imagine. Boy, you know not what you are risking--not your
own life, but the lives of others; the honor of your family; the hope
of the final redemption of your race. Haste--fly, fly!"

The